The Art of the Cinematographer

by Leonard Maltin

  Cinematography is a specialized field; at best, it affords unlimited creativity and artistic satisfaction. But practically speaking, the cameraman must often subordinate his feelings to those of the director. This is no discredit to the cameraman, for, after all, the director is the boss. Numerous cameramen, however, have felt the need to expand their horizons, and so have turned to direction. In such a case, the photography of a film is usually left to another man, but even so, the cameraman-turned-director is certain to have a greater concern and understanding for the visual aspect of his film than most directors without any experience behind the camera. There are many examples of cameramen who have successfully graduated into directing careers; we shall discuss a few of the most prominent within this group.

  George Stevens has had a distinguished career as a director; his films include ALICE ADAMS, SWING TIME, GUNGA DIN, I REMEMBER MAMA, A PLACE IN THE SUN, SHANE, and THE DIARY OF ANNE FRANK. But his first contact with motion pictures was as a cameraman. He recently recalled for us, “I had been interested in photography as a kid, as a hobby. I was in the theater world, looking for a job in the film business. There were no unions, so it was possible to become an assistant cameraman, if you happened to find just when they were starting a picture. There was no organization; if a cameraman didn’t have an assistant, he didn’t know just where to find one. And I learned a little bit about it; I was on a picture for four or five days. I had an opportunity to be on a set, and the assistant cameraman kept showing me things. One day I climbed a fence, and knew they needed an assistant cameraman, so I told them I was an assistant cameraman. A couple of days later, I was, but the first day or two it was pretty disastrous. I knew something about photography, and I caught on quick.

  Charles Lang, Jr. (right of camera) and director Billy Wilder (left of camera) get a rear view of Tony Curtis and Marilyn Monroe in this production still from SOME LIKE IT HOT (1959).

  Cinematographer George Folsey is at the camera while crew members move the base of his high-flying crane for this production number from GOING HOLLYWOOD (1933) with Marion Davies and Bing Crosby.

  Director Otto Bower (slightly hidden behind lens) and cameraman Nick Musuraca film William Gargan and Frances Dee in HEADLINE SHOOTER (1933).

  Jean Renoir, cameraman Lucien Andriot, and camera operator Fred Kaifer on location for THE SOUTHERNER (1944).

  Bert Glennon (in while hat) anchors a camera to the top of a coach for an exciting action scene in John Ford’s STAGECOACH (1939). That’s Andy Devine at the reins.

  “When I stayed on with [Hal] Roach, I started doing some things that they weren’t doing, because they were very old-fashioned about the photography in their comedies. I worked first with Fred Jackman, who was making pictures with Rex, the King of the Wild Horses. I was a cameraman on that, and he was director; his brother was cameraman. He was first cameraman, and I—well, I wasn’t second cameraman, because we did separate work—associate cameraman. I knew about panchromatic film. and they didn’t. I had bought the plates from England, a photo store there; we got some extraordinarily good effects, and he liked it. I finished those pictures, and there was nothing left to do but photograph comedies if I wanted to stay with Hal Roach. I didn’t like comedies, I hated two-reel comedies, but I got on the Laurel and Hardy pictures, and that was great.

  Director Mitchell Leisen (chin in hand) prepares a shot with Leo Tover’s camera crew for I WANTED WINGS (1941) with Ray Milland and Wayne Morris.

  “Roach used to direct a picture every now and then, and he was directing this one. About noon he said, ‘You direct it.’ He would make one picture a year, or something, and he would always get the wrong story, and he’d get into trouble with it. So I said, ‘Not for me.’ I wouldn’t do it; I wouldn’t know what the hell to do with it. I thought what he was doing was silly enough, without me trying it. He insisted, and I said, ‘No, I can’t do it, Hal.’ So he said, ‘Well, what do you want to do?’ I said, ‘If you want me to direct a picture, let me get my own story, so I’ll know what I’m doing.’ So I did, and it was THE BOY FRIENDS series.”

  THE BOY FRIENDS films, all but forgotten today, were delightful two-reel comedies, very much oriented to slapstick and sight-gags. They had Hal Roach’s mark on them, yet they were distinctive, filled with unusual camera angles and photographic ideas that are elementary today, but were quite imaginative then—especially at the Roach studio.

  Stevens has carried this visual awareness with him throughout his career; indeed, one of his trademarks is a visual device, the long, slow fade, probably best used in A PLACE IN THE SUN (1951) to juxtapose the conflict of the two life-styles facing Montgomery Clift. Stevens’ success as a director has made many forget his work as a cinematographer, but the fact remains that his camerawork was outstanding, evidenced by the sparkle of the Laurel and Hardy, Charley Chase, and other comedies he filmed during the late 1920s, which can still be admired today.

  Rudolph (Rudy) Maté was born in Cracow, Poland, in 1898, to an upper-class family that could afford to give their son a fine education. He studied at the University of Budapest, but a postwar depression in 1919 sent him job-hunting. He found work in a film laboratory, and followed the route of so many other careers: from lab technician to assistant cameraman. The taste of cinematography whetted Mate’s appetite, and he journeyed to Vienna, where he talked his way into a job as chief cameraman for Alexander Korda (little dreaming that director Korda was also a novice at the time). Finally he settled in Paris, where he became one of that country’s foremost cinematographers, particularly excelling in his work with Carl Theodor Dreyer: THE PASSION OF JOAN OF ARC (1927) and VAMPYR (1932). His outstanding reputation in Europe put him in demand, and in 1934 he accepted a contract offer from Fox Films in Hollywood. His first year in America, however, was largely unrewarding, with such ordinary films as CHARLIE CHAN’S COURAGE assigned to him (the main exception being the ten-minute Hades sequence in DANTE’S INFERNO).

  That short sequence in DANTE’S INFERNO was a dazzling one, however, and it opened some eyes. Maté left Fox to free-lance, and photographed the prestige picture DODSWORTH for Samuel Goldwyn. From that time on, his films were of the highest caliber, and Maté earned a reputation in Hollywood equal to the one he enjoyed abroad. In 1940 he did one of his finest jobs, working with Alfred Hitchcock on FOREIGN CORRESPONDENT. Shortly thereafter, he was chosen by Samuel Goldwyn to replace Gregg Toland for the duration of Toland’s wartime duty. Mate displayed his talent in Goldwyn’s THE PRIDE OF THE YANKEES (1942), the exceptional biography of Lou Gehrig directed by Sam Wood, starring Gary Cooper. Maté explained a cunning trick that was but one of many factors contributing to the excellence of the film: he conceived the idea of lighting Cooper from below (generally tabu) during the early part of the picture; this tended to erase the wrinkles in Cooper’s face and make him look more youthful. Later, as the character aged, Maté diminished and finally eliminated the unusual lighting.

  Director Joseph Pevney (under boom) and cameraman Russell Metty set up a shot with James Cagney and Dorothy Malone for MAN OF A THOUSAND FACES (1957).

  While working at Columbia during the 1940s, filming most of Rita Hayworth’s films (COVER GIRL, GILDA, DOWN TO EARTH), Mate received his first opportunity to direct. Signed as cameraman on IT HAD TO BE You (1947), a Ginger Rogers-Cornel Wilde comedy, he was soon assuming more and more directorial responsibility, along with nominal director Don Hartman (more a writer than a director). Soon he needed another cameraman to take over his responsibilities (Vincent Farrar), and on the final product, Mate received credit both as co-director and co-cinematographer. This experience, however, served two purposes: it created an interest in directing for Maté, and it showed Columbia chieftain Harry Cohn that Mate was capable of directing a film. Indeed, it was Columbia that gave him his first solo opportunity, on a thriller, THE DARK PAST. It turned out well enough to make Maté decide to remain a director, and it opened more doors for him. There followed what is probably his best film, D.O.A., a fast-
paced melodrama whose realistic format has been copied many times, seldom with the success of the original. Another of his better films was the George Pal science-fiction opus WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE (1951). But throughout the 1950s, Mate’s misfortune was the paucity of decent material in Hollywood; he turned out some first-rate, compact films (SECOND CHANCE—filmed in 3D, THE FAR HORIZONS, FOR THE FIRST TIME), but nothing outstanding; and the balance of his films could only be called workmanlike. He produced several of his pictures, including THE LION OF SPARTA; his final film, in the 1960s, was SEVEN SEAS TO CALAIS, a rather humdrum ending to a distinguished career on two continents. Mate died in 1964.

  Cinematographer Burnett Guffey and director Fritz Lang go over a scene with Glenn Ford and Gloria Crahame for HUMAN DESIRE (1954).

  Ted Tetzlaff was born in 1903 in Los Angeles; his proximity to the movie industry is probably the explanation for his interest in films. While still a young man, he joined the camera staff at Fox, where he got his training and experience. By the late 1920s he was a chief cameraman at the fledgling Columbia Pictures, filming a steady stream of program pictures every year. Not until 1935, when he moved to Paramount, did Tetzlaff get the chance to photograph “A” pictures (RUMBA, HANDS ACROSS THE TABLE, etc.). So good was his work at this time that he secured a directing contract from the studio in 1941; the problem was to find suitable films for him to direct. WORLD PREMIERE (1941), starring John Barrymore, was not the greatest film for a directorial debut, and Tetzlaff decided to wait rather than accept another such picture. He returned to cinematography, and did a beautiful job on Mitchell Leisen’s THE LADY IS WILLING (1942), one of the lushest pictures ever to come out of Columbia, with Marlene Dietrich; THE MORE THE MERRIER; and Alfred Hitchcock’s NOTORIOUS, a beautifully photographed thriller.

  Working at RKO as a cameraman, Tetzlaff investigated the possibility of directorial work and found that he could make the move, but only if he would work in the B-picture unit. He decided to do so, and turned out some creditable Pat O’Brien vehicles before embarking on an inexpensive thriller called THE WINDOW (1949). The Cornell Woolrich story of a boy who witnesses a murder, it starred Bobby Driscoll as the youngster, and Paul Stewart as the murderer. It was turned out very quickly, and just as quickly earned itself a reputation as the “sleeper” of the year; a terse, tingling, thoroughly engrossing melodrama that was among the best of its genre. Over the next few years, Tetzlaff showed that just because a picture is made on a low budget doesn’t mean it can’t be good (A DANGEROUS PROFESSION, UNDER THE GUN, etc.). But as the 1950s waned, and the B picture faded out, so did Tetzlaff’s career. His last films were hardly distinguished, not even up to his own standard from the early 50s. But a distinguished career as a cinematographer, and a fairly good one as a director, marked by one film that is widely considered to be a classic, is not a bad record for anyone.

  Cameraman Joseph Valentine and director Henry Koster film a balcony scene with Leopold Stokowski and Deanna Durhin for 100 MEN AND A GIRL (1937).

  Director Robert Wise and cinematographer Ernest Laszlo are hoisted aloft to shoot a scene from STAR! ( 1968).

  Cameraman Rudolph Maté (left), director Harry Lachman (in cap), and crew are trying out an unusual shot for DANTE’S INFERNO (1935).

  Mrs. Natalie Kalmus, wife of Technicolor founder Herbert T. Kalmus (and the omnipresent “Technicolor consultant” on so many films), was once quoted as saying that the finest Technicolor film she had ever seen was THE RED SHOES. This writer votes for another British film, BLACK NARCISSUS. Both films were photographed by Jack Cardiff, one of the best cameramen of all time, who captured color as few others have been able to. Born in Yarmouth, England, in 1914, Cardiff had his first taste of show business as a child actor. Growing up, he developed a liking for more technical work, and pursued an interest in cinematography. He was assistant cameraman when Technicolor’s Ray Rennahan went to England in 1936 to film that country’s first color feature, WINGS OF THE MORNING, with Annabella and Henry Fonda. It was invaluable experience for Cardiff, and evidently he learned a great deal, for not long afterward, he was director of photography on most of England’s important Technicolor films: FOUR FEATHERS (1939), CAESAR AND CLEOPATRA (1946), and the brilliant series of films produced by The Archers (Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger), A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH (STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN) (1946), BLACK NARCISSUS (1947), and THE RED SHOES (1948), to name several. NARCISSUS is perhaps the loveliest color film ever made, a beautiful display of pastel colors that dazzle with their richness, yet at no time appear garish, as much 1940s’ color in Hollywood tended to do. THE RED SHOES, which won Cardiff an Academy Award, included a fantasy ballet sequence that enabled him to let his imagination run wild in overall conception, not just the color. The result was a brilliant sequence, the highlight of an already brilliant film.

  Maté perches atop a huge camera platform for another angle on DANTE’S INFERNO; with him are assistant art director Lewis Creber, assistant cameraman Werner Cruze, and Claire Trevor.

  On these outstanding films was Cardiff’s reputation built, and with such follow-ups as PANDORA AND THE FLYING DUTCHMAN, THE AFRICAN QUEEN, THE MAGIC BOX, and WAR AND PEACE was it enhanced. In 1958 he was sufficiently established to venture into the field of directing, with a modest and not too successful thriller called INTENT TO KILL. Other routine films followed, including the first picture in Michael Todd, Jr.’s late, unlamented process, Smellavision, SCENT OF MYSTERY. But in 1960, Cardiff directed a meticulous, sensitive adaptation of D. H. Lawrence’s SONS AND LOVERS that won world-wide acclaim and established him as a director of formidable talent. The realization of a coal-mining town, the interpretation of the difficult story (it was one of the first attempts to film Lawrence), and the handling of the actors were all superb. After this triumph, Cardiff defied convention by making an unusual move—returning to cinematography. He explained, “I haven’t anything I want to direct in the immediate future, so I can go back to handling the camera with no loss of face.”

  Besides having “no loss of face,” Cardiff racked up another winner with his next film, FANNY, considered one of the highlights of his career, and another testament to his skilled use of color. He did return to directing, however, and carved out a sturdy career for himself, with competent work on a variety of films, some of which have been duds (THE LION, MY GEISHA), and others which have reasserted his directorial talent (THE LONG SHIPS, DARK OF THE SUN). Since SONS AND LOVERS, his best picture has been the excellent biography of Sean O’Casey, YOUNG CASSIDY, which was started by John Ford, who only worked a short time on the film.

  Cardiff’s cinematographer on SONS AND LOVERS was a man with a solid background in British film, Freddie Francis. Born in 1917, Francis was a still photographer when just seventeen years old, and steadily progressed to become a chief cameraman at British International Pictures during the 1940s. In 1947 he turned in a first-rate job on the outstanding production THE MACOMBER AFFAIR, and through the 1950s continued to excel in such films as BEAT THE DEVIL, TIME WITHOUT PITY, and ROOM AT THE TOP. His work on SONS AND LOVERS, with Jack Cardiff directting, won him an Academy Award, and his next film, THE INNOCENTS, turned out to be what many consider his finest effort, a thoroughly absorbing film with the impression of ghosts subtly conveyed through his fine black and white photography.

  These two personal triumphs enabled Francis to secure a director’s berth in England, and since 1962 he has turned out a large number of horror films. He has a cult following among film buffs, but his current status is something of a disappointment when one considers the level of his work as a cinematographer. Some of his films, particularly DR. TERROR’S HOUSE OF HORRORS and TORTURE GARDEN, have been quite good, while others, like MUMSY, NANNY, SONNY AND GIRLY, have been atrocious. Francis is obviously a talented man, and one can’t help but feel that with a wider range of subject matter, and better filmmaking colleagues, he could emerge as a first-rate director.

  Cinematographers continue to turn to directing as an outlet for t
heir talents, with varying degrees of success. William Fraker, who has distinguished himself with such pictures as BULLITT, ROSEMARY’S BABY, and PAINT YOUR WAGON, has made his debut as a director with MONTE WALSH, starring Lee Marvin and Jeanne Moreau. If this melancholy Western is indicative of his skill, he should have a long and successful career ahead of him. Other cameramen, like the late Karl Freund and James Wong Howe, have dabbled in direction, but returned to cinematography.

  The most impressive transition has been that of Haskell Wexler. Born in Chicago in 1926, to a noted and wealthy family, Wexler’s interest in film was apparent from the start. As a teen-ager, he started shooting his own home movies, and after graduation from the University of California, he became a professional cinematographer. He returned to his native Chicago, where he made educational and industrial films for eleven years; two of his documentaries were nominated for Academy Awards. In 1959 Wexler photographed the unusual semidocumentary THE SAVAGE EYE, produced and directed by Ben Maddow, Sidney Meyers. and Joseph Strick. This “brutally honest” view of Los Angeles received widely mixed reviews, but the undeniably provocative nature of the film gave forward steps to the careers of both Strick and Wexler.

  By 1961 Wexler was photographing such interesting black and white features as ANGEL BABY and THE HOODLUM PRIEST. Established in Hollywood, he continued to turn in first-rate work on AMERICA, AMERICA, A FACE IN THE RAIN, and THE BEST MAN. In 1965 he took on the added responsibility of producing, first with a documentary, THE Bus, and then with the Tony Richardson filmization of THE LOVED ONE. All of these were fine examples of modern black and white photography at its best, but Wexler’s next film brought him official recognition of that fact: WHO’S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF won him the Academy Award for the best black and white cinematography in 1966. It was indeed a photographic marvel, and a tribute to Wexler’s, as well as Mike Nichols’, creativity, that the film, basically a theatrical experience, also realized its full potential cinematically. It being Nichols’ first film assignment, the need for an experienced cinematographer was obvious, and the director has acknowledged the fine support he received.